


Thru These Walls

by AngelicEclair



Category: The Resident (2011)
Genre: F/M, Rape/Non-con Elements, Somnophilia, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-29
Updated: 2019-12-29
Packaged: 2021-02-27 10:15:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,775
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22015493
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AngelicEclair/pseuds/AngelicEclair
Summary: Max takes his voyeurism to a new level with his tenant.
Relationships: Max (The Resident)/Original Female Character(s), Max (The Resident)/You
Comments: 2
Kudos: 52





	Thru These Walls

**Author's Note:**

> The title is inspired by the Phil Collins song by the same name.

The rosy twilight tints drained from the sky, welcoming the darkly fostered rays. If (Y/N) had lived in a remote, countryside cottage, it would have been peaceful. Being a writer, she would have likened the arriving stars to the snowdrops of the angels, but she lived in the middle of the Big Apple by herself and night meant that she was up until the wee hours of morning, slaving over an overheating laptop, typing out another soulless essay until the Times New Roman font began to look like nothing more than bird footprints on snow.

Outside, there was the familiar rushing of taxis, doors slamming, lover's quarrels on verandas, and suspicious shuffling that seemed to come from behind the walls. (Y/N) brushed it off as rats skittering around in the cramped darkness, frantically in search of food. Maybe there weren't rats at all, perhaps it was (Y/N) 's freshly exposed nerves from having just moved into a new city, transferred to a brand new university, and was desperately searching for a suitable part-time job. Skittering, much like the phantom mice behind her walls.

Since everything was still packed away in boxes that made the already-cramped floorplan into a maze, (Y/N) opted to sit on a cushion by an open window. The crisp newly-winter breeze curled beneath her baggy sleep shirt and scattered goosebumps across her flesh.

As she took a break from her paper, she stretched and climbed to her feet, bones creaking in protest. (Y/N) looked out the window wistfully. Something was ever haunting about the light of the moon. It had all the dispassionateness of a disembodied soul and something of its inconceivable mystery in its garments of widowhood.

Knowing there was nothing in her barren fridge to quell the growling of her stomach, (Y/N) decided to slip on her shoes and pick out a handful of snacks from the 24 Hour mart just a few feet away from her building. She tugged on her heavy overcoat and rushed out the door.

(Y/N) was barely in her new apartment. Instead, she was always attending class. She would say she was majoring in (Major of Your Choosing) when, in reality, she was majoring in a morbid longing for company and minoring in caffeine addiction.

She had one more semester to go. She imagined the lies the valedictorian would tell them on graduation day. All about the exciting future that lies ahead. (Y/N), being in a slump, wished they would tell her the truth: You have gone as far in life as you're ever going to. You will do nothing but make compromises, find excuses, someone or something to blame, and hold that over your heart like a pendant on a chain.  
The doors to the mart slid open, and (Y/N) rubbed her cold hands and squinted at the stark white light. She stumbled dumbly towards the junk food, the gnawing in her belly told her to take all she could carry.

Grabbing enough mind fuel for the rest of the night, (Y/N) shuffled to the check-out counter, all the while feeling something nameless tug at her heart. It felt like some Stone Age instinct telling her "run, girl, run." As soon as she was handed her plastic bag of goodies, she zipped out the sliding doors into the frosty night, striding briskly back towards her apartment building. Something was wrong.

Upon entering her room, she instantly felt the wet grip of wariness clamp around her neck. She tiptoed, unsure, and deer-like, as if a hand was going to reach up through the floorboards and drag her down. She explored every inch of her living room, bedroom, and kitchen, holding her breath nearly the entire time. (Y/N) finally returned to the living room where she had been on her laptop most of the evening. She noticed her hand had been clutching her phone in her pocket the whole time. For a flicker of time, she wondered if she should call Max. His smile always put her at ease. It was like a soothing balm for a burn. Ultimately, she decided not to bother him. Max was constantly working himself to the bone with renovations inside the building, he was probably winding down for the night.

Reluctantly, (Y/N) lowered down onto the cushion and drew her computer into her lap. Maybe forcing herself to concentrate on classwork would push the neurosis out the fastest. Before anything, she rummaged through the bag of treats from the mart and picked one.

Instead of the document popping right up when she wiggled the mouse, she was met with the Word home-screen with all her recent and pinned documents and the upper tab that displayed a blank document and blue-gray resume template. Her eyes trailed to the rightmost column:

**Date modified 8:34**

That was while she was at the mart.

(Y/N) immediately felt terror stab her heart, and she stood up. Her bones turned to ice-water, and dread gnawed at her insides like a dog cleaning of the last scraps off of a chicken bone. She felt eyes on her from every direction.

Her panic flared, halfway expecting the candles to blow out on their own. She could almost hear something, feel its breath against her ear, but she knew when she would turn around, nothing would be there.

There was nothing but silence and vertigo.

The December wind howled like a beguiling phantom and made (Y/N) quickly shut the window. Without the constant, unfiltered ambiance from the Brooklyn Bridge, her apartment seemed like a smothering vacuum. She felt like she was the only astronaut on the space station, orbiting around the earth slowly and silently. Her ears were beginning to ring. Had it been this dark the whole time? The walls seemed to be closing in and suffocating her.

(Y/N) crouched down to blow the assembly of candles out and pick her laptop up off the floor. Like a scared child, racing up the stairs after flipping a light off, she rushed towards the bedroom, all the while telling herself there were not unblinking eyes searing into her flesh like a steaming brand.

She placed her laptop on a throw pillow beside the bed – its designated nest for the past few weeks – and climbed into bed. With a childish thought, she wondered if the gnawing paranoia would dissipate if she slung the covers over her head until her alarm blared in a few hours. She doubted she would actually get any sleep. (Y/N), despite being a bit embarrassed at the infantile thought, drew the blankets over herself like it was a forcefield. There were a few moments of pure silence before her ears pricked at rustling just a few feet away, dashing her hope of any semblance of peace.

(Y/N) sat up, spots darker than black thumping in her eyes along with her raging pulse as she scanned the room for an intruder, she was sure was there. She squinted at the dark velvet shapes in her room, each motionless. Everything was covered in a fuzzy filter of TV static.

After a few moments of frozen expectation, (Y/N) reached back to prop her pillows up against the headboard and settled back against the softness with a shaky sigh. Remembering her sleeping pills on the bedside table, she rolled over and groped blindly for the bottle. She shook the plastic bottle and set it back down with a grimace; empty.

After cursing inwardly at herself for forgetting to pick up her prescription at the pharmacy after class let out, (Y/N) realized her heartbeat had calmed back down to its familiar, steady thud. Reaching to check her phone, which was charging beside her empty pill bottle and vase of once-extravagant, now-wilting flowers, a housewarming gift from her charming landlord Max, she discovered she only had three hours before she needed to get up and start her routine to prepare for her morning class. She grumbled and slumped back once more, staring up at the ceiling.

She considered emailing her professor about having some sort of incredibly sudden-onset of the flu but decided against it when she remembered the paper she had to present in the afternoon.

(Y/N) controlled her breathing and forced her eyes shut, focusing on the calming darkness behind her eyelids.

Behind the walls, Max's eyes were cat-like despite the offending dark. Though he hated for (Y/N) to be so afraid, it was adorable how wide-eyed and jerky she could when she was scared. She looked like a frightened doe, freezing still in the middle of a field, big eyes barely blinking. Max was growing impatient, but waiting had its own erotic qualities.

(Y/N)'s mind began to wander as she lay immobile on the bed, hyperaware of her precious sleeping time ticking away. Her solutions for insomnia were very few, but there was always one that she could rely on. Not unlike the warm and comforting sensation of drinking warm milk before bed, she often shoved a hand into her panties and pleased herself to gain the needed rush of heat to relax her prickled nerves. Sleep was always guaranteed as soon as she reached relief.

Kicking away the too-hot blankets, (Y/N) spread her legs and plunged her hand into her pajama pants and teased her slit through her panties. Her lips radiated heat and moisture through the soft cotton barrier.

Her mind flittered through a multitude of different situations before settling on one she fancied. Still, the man was no one, she had not even bothered to mentally flesh-out his features. Then, her mind drifted to Max. Almost immediately, she felt shame. She tried her best to halt Max's movements in her mind.

He was industrious, and so very capable with his hands. (Y/N) remembered him smattered in white paint and sawdust as he was caulking the bathroom tiles. His hands were so big and rough from years of manual labor. His fingers were so thick.

But he was so sweet. (Y/N) thought it was a cardinal sin to think of him in such a manner.

She recalled walking by his side, a huge cashmere scarf spooled around her neck as they talked about life, both with bashful smiles. They stopped by Christmas window displays. It was the first of December, and the shops were already up to their necks in decorations. The scalding peppermint hot chocolates Max had bought (Y/N), and himself were the only thing keeping them warm. Something about the moment seemed almost romantic, especially when their hands brushed for a heartbeat, only for (Y/N) to pull her hand away, acting aloof despite the erratic thumping of her heart.

Never in a million years would (Y/N) believe Max was a voyeuristic pervert who would have orgasmed untouched if he had known her mind was on him, breathless and struggling to pull away from imaginings of what his body was like. He would have been even more thrilled to have been a fly on the wall to her moral confliction about him. Her tender innocence was one of the many qualities that drew Max to (Y/N).

A finger plunged down the length of her slit into the gathering wetness, and she shuddered. She imagined the weight of Max's body on hers. She imagined the combined heat of their bodies being too much, and sweat beginning to sparkle in the lowlights on their bare flesh. She imagined the trail of fine hair leading down to his swollen cock. She imagined that the tip was already dripping with pre-cum for her. From inside her panties, her fingers moved in hurried circles. She imagined him as he was the first time they met, ruffled, and looking so deliciously-rough around the edges. In her lust-sunk mind, he drew closer, pinning her against the bare walls, striking her neck with quick, wet kisses and teasing her through her panties.

Licking his dry lips, Max leaned closer to the wall and felt his cheeks and back ignite in similar shame. Without blinking, he reached down, pulled apart the buckle, and ripped down the zipper. His shaking hand dove beneath his boxers to grab a firm hold at the base of his aching cock.

On the bed, (Y/N) sighed out blissfully as her surroundings melted away, and she chased after her most human wants.

Max pumped his cock, watching (Y/N), but also letting his mind get swept away in a blizzard of unholy thoughts. His imaginings rested on the boundary, the very precipice of horror. He envisioned her finding him touching himself and her immediate reaction: her rabbity eyes and her trembling lips. Would she avoid looking down? Would she maintain eye contact as he stroked himself?

Fisting his weighty cock harder and faster, he tried to keep up with (Y/N)'s pace. The tension in his gut began to build and contract unbearably, heat prickling in some areas while chills rushed the others. The muscles in his legs clenched and strained as he neared the brink of insanity. Dark dots throbbed at the edge of his vision, and he quickly became undone.

Then, he was waking up.

Confused, Max looked at his watch. It had been well-past thirty minutes since he last checked. Being exhausted after a hard day of repairs and looming behind the walls, Max must have dozed off after a breathtaking orgasm and a few minutes of warm, palpating silence. He hazarded a glance out the makeshift peephole. There was his beautiful (Y/N) peacefully snoozing body, tucked beneath a blanket.

With practiced precision, Max seemed to float over the floor, not making a single sound. In a rising rush of adrenaline, he sped out of hiding and found himself dizzy at the front door to (Y/N) 's apartment. He fished the key out of his pocket and twisted it in the lock as slow and carefully as he could manage.

Max's heartbeat drowned out all other sounds or thoughts. Too hungry to notice his surroundings, he operated solely on autopilot until he reached her bedside. He loomed over her sleeping body with malicious intent, much like a shark in chummed waters. His eyes rolled over her angelic form in an awed stupor. Though he had seen her in the same state a handful of times, it always proved to be a revitalizing shock to his system.

Reaching out, he yanked her blankets off of her body and felt his pulse leap. Stepping back, he kicked off his boots, trying to keep himself steady despite the quaking thrill of anticipation filling his body.

God, she was beautiful. Really, really beautiful and so peaceful in her unawareness.

He yanked off his shirt and tossed it over his discarded boots, propped against her nightstand. He was shaking as he reached down to undo the button of his pants. Swallowing hard, he peeled the zipper down and shoved his pants to his ankles, stepping out of them carefully. Next, he rid himself of his irksome boxers, forcing a sound to die in his throat has his hot cock bobbed free against the cold air. It jutted proudly from the thatch of dark curls at his groin, begging for (Y/N)'s soft fingertips; the same ones he suckled on while she dreamed just a few nights ago.

Max bent forward to shove her flimsy, cotton shirt above her breasts. Her nipples beaded as soon as chilly air met her warm body. A quiet, involuntary noise of surprise breaks past her pretty lips as he left a trail of hot kisses over her bared flesh. It was like lumps of burning coal hissing against the snow.

It was the closest contact with her that Max had had, before the accident brush of their hands while weaving down the bustling street, admiring holiday decore. Pulling his head back, he made sure (Y/N)'s eyes were still closed before moving down to her breasts to tease her nipple quick laps.

Max was moved to burning. The madness, mayhem, and erotic vandalism to a body that did not belong to him was overwhelming him. He had waited for the moment for so long.

Heading lower still, Max began pressing kisses to her lower abdomen. He looked up, holding his breath. (Y/N) had not so much as twitched. He exhaled deeply when he saw her still-sleeping face.

Unable to wait any longer, he took a half-heartbeat to appreciate her panties before reaching for them.

Hooking his fingertips under the thin lace, he cautiously pulled them down her body, forcing himself not to tug them too hard. Only then did he realize how much he was shaking. Desperately, he wanted to wrench them off of her goddess-legs and force them apart to at a nearly-painful angle, but he squashed down the desire.

When he dragged them all the way down to her delicate ankles, he looked up to peek at the heavenly juncture between her legs. Despite the deep, disguising shadows, he could make out the beginning of her soft slit.

He remembered, slipping into her apartment before, she had a document up on her computer, and, for once, it was not school-related. There, beside a mug of cold tea, was the amatory venting of a touch-starved girl. He knew how badly she wanted to be licked out, it was just too bad she had to be asleep for it. He hoped a dream would treat her nicely while he put in all the work.

Drawing ever closer, he could see how soaked she was as blue slats of moonlight peeked through the blinds, highlighting her dribbling pussy.

Max moved in to tongue her sex, making low, growling noises in his throat like a big cat purring with pleasure.

He lashed her from bottom to top. (Y/N)'s lips began to twitch, and her eyes squeezed tighter for just a moment against the sensation. After making her slick enough, Max slipped a dexterous finger deep inside her tight pussy. Her back arched with the added intensity. On and on, he licked, sucked, swirled, and flicked his tongue upon her helpless clit. Max's movements were quickly becoming erratic, and his erection ground pitifully against the bedspread. Still, he continued his volley of licks, silently begging her to spasm around his tongue. (Y/N)'s hips began to rock rhythmically against Max's handsome, stubbled face, which made him stop immediately. Her being so receptive in her sleep was an unforeseen outcome. He had to get inside her, or he would surely cum untouched against her bedsheets like a teenager.

Hovering over her again, he reached and led the tip of his cock toward her entrance. He teased it over her wet folds for a moment before rolling his hips forward, spearing the fattest part of his length inside.

He took a moment to pause and hold back as he urged more of his length inside of her. The sensation of her walls compressing around his body felt amazing. His arms came down on either side of her head like great Grecian pillars. With each vacillating plunge, Max rolled his thumb over her clitoris. (Y/N)'s eyes snapped open, and her mewl of pleasure grew into a gasp of horror as she stirred further awake.

Hadn't she taken her sleeping pills?

Every instinct in her body blared to recoil, but an awful sense of powerlessness grew steadily, as though she was inhaling a great breath of air and was unable to stop. The horror became overwhelming, and from some hidden place in my mind, she felt darkness, something vast and unnamable, beginning to form.

It screamed for Max to shake and pierce her. She was weak, soft, and melting underneath him. This was what she craved but ferociously denied on all fronts. (Y/N) lusted after the darker beatitudes, ecstasies, dazzling reverberations of sexual encounters. Everything else seemed like clinical sex, deprived of the orchestration of all the senses. Fear was her most-truster aphrodisiac. It may have been shocking for others to process such a sweet, innocent girl wanting to be taken advantage of, but alas, what is normal for the spider is chaos for the fly.

"M-Max…" She breathed. Was it a question, a plea, a cry, a moan? (Y/N) herself could not decide. Either way, it was a soft invitation to advance his madness.

His initial shock and instinct to bolt out the way he came faded and a new awareness filled his core.

She wanted this too. She had too. She was staring up with Max with watery doe-eyes, pupils, eclipsing her irises entirely, and soft whispers of appreciation tumbling from her pretty lips.

Max's honey-hazel eyes were heavy-lidded, hypnotized-looking, and black in the lightless room. Was he all there? He looked like his mind was on the moon. The whole apartment looked like it was on the moon too. It was too cold but too hot, too quiet but too loud, too many sensations all at once as Max pummeled her further into the mattress. Reaching up to wrap her arms desperately around his neck. Max lowered in closer to her, his lips pressed to the side of her neck as he obeyed her stutters for 'more.' She winced audibly, almost drowned out by the wet slapping. Max felt her legs wrapping tightly around his waist. "You want this, huh? You really, really want this…" Max slurred against her flesh.

Humiliated at the sound of his own voice, he buried his face in her shoulder as he fucked her. She could feel his breath against her skin, gushing out through his nose in bursts.

"You're …so deep…inside me," she purred in disbelief, barely audible.

She could not believe he had wanted her, and especially to such a ravenous, uncontrollable degree. It was mind-melting. Had he thought about it even way back when she had first become a tenant, and they got coffee together at the local café? That smile was so sincere and shy, had he been hiding visions like this behind those melancholy eyes throughout the months?

(Y/N) rubbed at her clit at the thought, bringing herself off with practiced efficiency A response - a warmth flooded her insides, and Max bowed over her body with a shaking groan. As if all his energy was swept from his body at once, Max collapsed wetly against (Y/N) with a breathy snicker.

For once in his life, Max did not feel wholly alone in his desires.


End file.
